


Too Close To The Heart

by RedShirtWriter34567



Category: Richard II - Shakespeare, Timeline (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ambushes and Sneak Attacks, Bandits & Outlaws, Flashbacks, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Letters, Long-Distance Relationship, Love at First Sight, Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Secret Relationship, Serious Injuries, Slow Burn, Swordfighting, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:49:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26372236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedShirtWriter34567/pseuds/RedShirtWriter34567
Summary: Lord Oliver is severely injured in battle and his men rush to inform King Richard.
Relationships: Richard II/Lord Oliver de Vannes
Comments: 21
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

Lord Oliver stared broodingly at the map spread out across the table, his brow furrowed as he traced the lines drawn with his fingers. Outside the tent, he could hear his men training, rebuilding the fortifications, and keeping watch atop the battlements. They had been hit hard after the latest surprise attack and had lost twenty men as well as a commander. Their enemies had adopted a new tactic of guerilla warfare, attacking Oliver’s men at a moments notice and at their most vulnerable, like when the guards were changing shifts or in the cover of a storm like last night,

Oliver cursed and shook his head, running a hand through his black curls. Because his last scouts had been killed, they had no way to track their enemies moves and had no idea when they were to strike next. The lord sighed and paced around inside the tent. He hated feeling this exposed and knew his men were scared too. So many had already been lost in this stupid war. Oliver kicked at some dirt with his boot and fiddled with the cross hanging from his neck over his chainmail.

“My lord?” a man asked from behind him.

Oliver turned and saw a young man in messenger’s clothes peeking inside through the tent flap. He stepped further inside when Oliver beckoned him closer.

“What is it, messenger?” he asked. 

The man reached into his leather satchel and handed Oliver a crisp envelope. “Mail for you, Lord de Vannes.”

Oliver spotted the familiar crimson wax seal of a lion and smiled. He took the envelope and nodded to the messenger, who bowed and left the tent. Oliver carefully broke the seal and opened the letter, being gentle as to not crease the parchment. His eyes scanned the message written in King Richard’s perfect handwriting, the ink gleaming black in the light.

‘My dearest Oliver,

I’ve missed you so much since you left the kingdom. I pray each night that you stay safe and well so that you can return to me whole. I yearn to feel you again, to hold you in my arms, kiss your lips. I long to make love to you for days and nights at a time. My bed has been so, so cold without you, my love. I was overjoyed to receive your last letter, but I am so sorry for the loss of those brave men.

If you send me a list of their names, I will inform their families and arrange for them to receive proper tributes. I know you did the best you could to protect them, my dear. Do not blame yourself. Take strength and be brave, my stallion, and come home soon.

Forever yours,  
-Richard.’

Oliver grinned as he stroked the gilded edges of the letter gently. He kissed it and smelled the scent of the king’s perfume. It was a mixture of honey and crisp bed linens, sun-kissed fruits and rosewater. The lord folded the letter and tucked it into a pocket on his cloak. Suddenly, Oliver heard his men screaming and rushed out of the tent. A solider fell off the battlements, an arrow sprouting from his neck, blood gushing from his mouth as he coughed.

“The savages are attacking!” another man shouted. “From the west barricade!”

Oliver cursed. They hadn’t fixed that area yet since the last attack. He ran to the stables and found his horse, swung himself up onto the saddle and rode through the camp to rally his men.

“Hold the line, men!” he shouted amid the panic. “These savages will not break us! Drive them back! For glory!” He unsheathed his sword and held it aloft.

His men followed suit with battle cries of their own. Oliver led the charge and they met the enemy head on; they charged down a sloping hill, dressed in animal hides and bone jewelry and feathers. They were armed with daggers and bows and arrows, swords of bones. Oliver cut several of them down as he rode through the battle, blood splattering his chainmail. His sword blade gleamed in the blazing sunlight, wet with blood.

“You will not take these lands!” he yelled. “And you will not take anymore of my men!”

He heard whistling behind him as the catapults were launched, destruction raining down upon the field. Oliver watched as the enemies began to retreat back up the hill and into the trees, yelling in their alien tongue. The men cheered and Oliver smiled. His horse reared up and the lord revealed in the victory. Then he heard it: the district sound of an arrow being released from a bow. Oliver yelled as he felt an intense pain in his back, between his shoulder blades. Warm blood coursed down his back beneath his chainmail.

“My lord!” One of his men shouted. 

Oliver slumped against his horse, struggling to stay upright. Another arrow appeared and sank into the ground beneath the animal’s hooves. The horse neighed in terror and reared up, turning around and allowing the final arrow to find its target in Oliver’s torso. It pierced his flesh just beneath his necklace. Oliver coughed, blood spilling from his lips as he slipped off his horse to the muddy ground with a thud. 

“Lord Oliver!” a soldier shouted.

The lord’s vision was becoming blurry, his hearing growing faint as he stared up at the sky. He heard footsteps all around him and felt hands on him, trying to lift him up. Panicked voices sounded far away and muffled.

“He’s losing a lot of blood,” a man exclaimed. “We need to get him back inside to the doctor!”

“Someone needs to ride out and alert King Richard,” another added. “Oliver is his best knight. He needs to know what’s happened.”

Oliver groaned softly as he felt himself being lifted up and carried. They were careful with him but he could still register the pain of the arrows still buried inside his back and his chest, could feel the blood growing cold and congealed beneath his clothes. He shivered as he was placed onto a rough surface.

“Stay strong, Lord Oliver,” a voice urged, full of forced hope. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Richard,” Oliver murmured, his eyes heavy and struggling to stay open as he breathed heavily and coughed, tasting the metallic tang of his own lifeblood on his tongue. “Richard, please. I-I promised I would return to him…” His voice faded and Oliver lost consciousness, his lover’s name the last word on his lips. “Richard.”


	2. Chapter 2

King Richard sighed as he stood on the balcony, breathing in the fresh morning air and watching the kingdom down below. He could hear the clanging from the blacksmith, the deals being shouted by the vendors at the market, and church bells ringing for the morning mass. It was calm and serene and perfect. Well, almost perfect. The king looked down at the courtyard, where Lord Oliver often spent his morning duties training new knights or giving out orders to the kingdom’s guards. Now it was empty save for the gardeners trimming the bushes and hedges. The effigies the knights used as practice targets still stood there.

Richard smiled as he remembered mornings when he could hear Oliver shouting orders or encouragement to the new recruits. Sometimes Richard would even stand on the balcony and watch his lover at work, looking so commanding and in charge. Oliver would often wait until the other men were distracted before turning and looking up at the king to smile and blow him a kiss. Now the courtyard and even the kingdom itself felt oddly empty without him. He had been gone for two months already and there was no word as to when he was to return to the kingdom. And to the king.

Richard missed his lover terribly. Every time Oliver had it was always hard because there was so much uncertainty about when he would return or even return at all. Richard shook his head to shake those melancholy thoughts. Oliver was a very capable warrior. He had proven that long ago when he and Richard had first met several months ago. The king smiled to himself and reached beneath his shirt, pulling out a leather necklace with a small chunk of amber hanging from it. Preserved inside the amber was a rosebud. Oliver had given it to him as a gift after finding the amber in the dirt of a battlefield.

The king kissed the charm gently and tucked it beneath his shirt again, where it hung just over his heart. He was also standing on the balcony because it allowed him to the gate’s to the kingdom. He was keeping watch for either a messenger or Oliver himself. Either one would make Richard happy. He hadn’t heard from Oliver since his last letter three weeks ago and it wasn’t like him to wait that long to send a letter, no matter what was going on. 

“Hopefully his letter will arrive soon,” the king murmured. 

He ran his fingers through his long tresses and adjusted his crown. Just then, he heard a knock at his chamber door. 

“Enter,” Richard called.

He left the balcony and entered his room again, closing the doors as a white-clad servant entered his chambers. She bowed respectfully and stood with her hands clasped in front of her.

“Your Majesty, there’s a soldier from Lord Oliver’s camp in the throne room,” she said. “He arrived last night but the guards wouldn’t grant him entry to the kingdom until he could verify himself.”

“What is he doing here?” Richard asked. 

“He says he brings news about Lord Oliver,” the servant answered. 

Richard arched a well-groomed eyebrow in interest. Why would a soldier from the camp come here himself rather than send a messenger? 

“Thank you, miss,” he said. “Let us go and see what news he brings.”

The servant bowed and led Richard from his chambers to the throne room. It was large and ornate with high windows and richly coloured tapestries on the dark wood wall. Richard’s throne sat upon a dais beneath a stained glass window, a length of red carpet leading toward it. There was a man standing before the throne, looking out of place in his chainmail stained with grass and dirt and blood, his sword sheathed at his hip. He was anxiously picking at his fingernails when Richard and the servant entered. 

“Your Majesty,” the soldier said, dropping to one knee as Richard approached. “My name is Jack Hilden and I am part of Lord Oliver’s infantry. It is an honour to be in your presence.”

“Rise, Jack Hilden, and tell me why it is you are here,” Richard replied. “My servant told me you bring news regarding Lord Oliver.”

“Yes, My Liege,” Jack said, rising to his feet again. “I regret that I am not bringing good news, though.”

Richard felt his heart drop into his belly. Jack continued. 

“I came to tell you that Lord Oliver was severely injured during a surprise attack on our camp.”

“Is he still alive?” Richard asked quickly. 

“Yes, but we believe he’s been poisoned,” Jack explained. “He was shot twice with arrows and even when the doctor removed them and tended to his wounds, he still didn’t regain consciousness and has been running a fever. We thought you deserved to know since he is the captain of your guard here.”

Richard couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He grasped his necklace beneath his shirt and bit his lip. His lover was injured and ill and Richard wasn’t even there with him! 

‘He needs me,’ Richard thought to himself. 

“Where is your camp, Jack?” he asked.

“West of here in the valleys adjust to the forest,” Jack answered. “It takes about a week to get there by horse.”

“I see,” Richard murmured. 

He faced the servant who had accompanied him and who was standing quietly nearby. 

“Go to the guard barracks and tell whoever is in command to send a dozen of his best men to the courtyard,” Richard told her. “Tell them we are to leave the kingdom at noon and that we ride for Lord Oliver’s camp. Get me a horse as well. I will pack what I need.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the servant replied, bowing and heading off with her instructions.

“My Liege?” Jack asked, making Richard turn around again. “What are you doing?”

Richard froze and considered his answer. He knew he couldn’t tell people about his relationship with Oliver. 

“Lord Oliver is my captain and my friend,” Richard answered finally. “I want to see him and ensure that your doctor is doing whatever it takes to help him.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Jack replied. “With your blessing, I’d like to come with you back to the camp. I know the terrain and path very well. I think I could help a great deal.”

“Very well.” Richard agreed. “You can come. We could use someone with your knowledge and expertise of the land. Go and wait for the men in the courtyard.”

Jack nodded and rushed off. Richard brought his necklace out and kissed it, then held tight in his hand. 

“Don’t worry, my love,” he said. “I’m on my way.”

He returned to his chambers and began to pack, though another servant was already there waiting to help him. Richard also changed out of his robes and into clothing more suited to traveling, donning black breeches, a white shirt beneath a dark leather jerkin, leather boots, and a purple velvet cloak. Once he was packed, he joined the men assembled in the courtyard and saw Jack among them, saddling horses and getting ready to be off. 

“Where’s my horse?” Richard asked.

“Here, Your Majesty,” a guard said, coming over and leading with him a beautiful white stallion.

The animal knickered as Richard approached it and held his hand out. The horse’s nostrils flared as it sniffed his hand before nuzzling his palm. 

“What’s its name?” Richard asked.

“The stable boy called him Maximus,” the guard replied. “Insists he’s the finest horse ever bred and runs swifter than lightning.”

“Perfect,” Richard said. 

He carefully pulled himself up onto the black leather saddle and gripped the reins tightly as he adjusted his balance. Maximus knickered again and Richard patted his muscular neck. 

“Easy,” he said soothingly. 

He watched as the other men mounted their horses as well and as one they set off through the kingdom toward the gates. People stopped and stared, whispering amongst themselves. It was often that Richard left the kingdom and so suddenly.

“I shall return soon,” he called to the people. “You have my word that I will come back.”

“God bless you, King Richard,” a woman cried and people cheered loudly.

They waved as Richard’s party approached the gate and the guards on duty opened it. 

“Good luck on your journey, Your Majesty,” one of them said, bowing as he rode by.

Richard nodded to him as the gate closed behind them. They headed down the path in a V formation with Richard in front. Jack rode up alongside him on a chestnut steed.

“This is a gracious thing you are doing, My Liege,” he said. “But may I ask what you plan to do when we reach the camp?”

That was a good question. One that Richard didn’t really know the answer to. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to help Oliver physically but he also knew that he would feel guilty not being by his lover’s side in his time of need.

“I want to help Lord Oliver anyway I can,” he told Jack finally. 

Jack nodded and they rode on in silence. Richard touched his necklace through his shirt and sighed. He prayed that they would make it to the camp quickly. His lover needed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is a follow up to this where you'll see the first of probably many flashbacks


	3. Chapter 3

Their party rode on in silence for a long time, the only sound the hooves of their mounts against the rough path. Richard rode up front with Jack Hilden alongside him. The king didn’t leave the kingdom often except when he was invited to neighboring kingdoms to talk trade or attend balls. He looked around at the forest that bordered the path on either side, seeing how crisp the colours of the changing leaves were. Richard looked up at the clear blue sky, the sun shining high and bright as a flock of birds flew overhead. 

“Do you like riding, Your Majesty?” Jack asked, bringing the king out of his thoughts.

“I do actually,” Richard replied. “I used to do a lot more as a child but when I became king I no longer had the time for it. What about you?”

“I grew up riding horses,” Jack explained. “My family used to own several of them and my favourite one was a mare named Shayna.”

Richard smiled. “Does your family still have her?”

“No,” Jack admitted sadly. “We had to sell her after my father and older brother were killed in the war. Me and my mother had no money and would’ve lost our home if we hadn’t. It broke my heart when I found out we had to sell her.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Jack,” Richard said. “Is your mother still well?”

“She is actually,” Jack answered. “I write to her as often as I can but I haven’t been able to visit her in a long time. I’m worried she’ll forget me.”

“You’ll see her again soon,” Richard told him reassuringly. 

Jack offered a grateful smile. Richard smiled back. Their party continued on, crossing over a stone bridge and over a rushing river. Richard’s mind wandered as they traveled. He thought of Oliver and what his condition was. Was he improving or getting worse? How high was his fever? Could the camp doctor figure out what poison had been used on him? Richard tightened his grip on the reins of his horse. What if something happened to Oliver and Richard didn’t find out till they reached the camp? What if they sent a messenger to the kingdom and he wasn’t there to receive it?

‘Don’t think like that,’ Richard thought to himself. ‘Focus on getting to Oliver.’

Maximus suddenly whinnied and turned his head as if he sensed Richard’s thoughts. The king stroked his mount’s silky grey mane. Maximus knickered softly at the touch. Richard felt his nerves calm slightly as he stroked the animal. After several long hours of riding, they reached a fork in the path and stopped.

“Which way do we go, Jack?” Richard asked.  
“The right,” Jack answered. “There will be a clearing nearby where we can stop for the night.”

Richard nodded and they continued on. Sure enough, on one side of the path was a clearing with a small pond nearby. Their party headed off the path and into the clearing. The guards and Jack all dismounted and began setting up camp. Richard got off of Maximus and watched his men work. Some were setting up tents while a few moved toward the forest and began gathering wood. Richard watched as Jack expertly set up a tent by himself faster than the others.

“You’ve done this before, I take it?” Richard asked him.

“Me and my brother used to go camping all the time when we were younger,” Jack explained. He finished securing the tent pegs and stood up, dusting his clothes off. “This tent is for you, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you, Jack,” Richard said. 

The soldier bowed and went off to help the others. Richard stood nearby, feeling out of place for not helping as the men worked.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked. 

“Do not trouble yourself, My Liege,” a guard said. 

Richard frowned. In the kingdom he was used to having servants and his needs attended to, but out here things were different. He needed to pull his own weight and didn’t want the men or Jack to think he was some soft, delicate thing that needed protection. Richard looked around and noticed a tent that hadn’t been set up yet. He walked over to it and knelt down, picking up a mallet off the ground and grabbing one of the pegs. He got into position and gripped the mallet tightly in his hand, but when he struck the peg the hammer slipped and flew from his grip. 

“Damn it,” Richard muttered. 

He picked up the hammer and tried again with the same result. Richard gritted his teeth in frustration and tried once more, only to accidently throw the hammer several yards across the grass. Richard cursed and heard a chuckle from behind him. The king turned around and saw Jack standing there, an amused smile on his lips.

“Would you like some help, Your Highness?” he asked.

Richard willed himself not blush and nodded in defeat. “Yes. It seems I do need help.”

Jack chuckled again and fetched the hammer Richard had thrown then came back, kneeling on the grass beside the king. 

“Like this, Your Highness,” he said, showing Richard how to properly hold the hammer in one hand and the base of the peg with the other. 

Richard watched closely and afterward helped Jack with the rest of the pegs. Soon it wasn’t long before the king and Jack and some of the guards were gathered around a crackling fire. The sun began to set and the sky was streaked with crimson and brilliant orange light on the horizon. When night came the moon was full and the stars gleamed like gemstones in the inky sky. Richard sat by the fire, watching sparks rise up into the sky, his knees drawn up to his chest. He loved looking at the stars, even as a child. Some nights he would stand on his balcony and study them, mesmerized by their beauty and mystery in equal measure. Oliver had taught him about stars, how they were used sometimes to help soldiers and sailors navigate.

Richard’s heart ached as he thought of his lover. They were still so far from the camp. The king reached beneath his shirt and touched his rosebud necklace. He never, ever took it off and never would. It was a promise he’d made to Oliver when he’d first given it to him. 

“Your Majesty,” Jack said suddenly,

Richard blinked and looked away from the stars. Jack was sitting on the other side of the fire, watching him curiously. Some of the other guards were on watch around the camp while others rested in their tents. The horses were nearby, munching on the short grass. 

“Yes, Jack?” Richard asked.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the story surrounding Lord Oliver?” Jack asked. “How did he become the captain of the guard at your kingdom? How did he even come here?”

Richard smiled. “That’s a long story, Jack. Would you like to hear it?”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Jack answered. “I enjoy long stories.”

Richard laughed softly and stretched one of his legs out, keeping the other in an arch with his arms resting on his knee. He began telling Jack the story of Lord Oliver had arrived and became the captain of Richard’s guard, remembering it as clear as a crystal.

It all started after the first captain of the guard retired. Richard had allowed him to do so after learning that he needed to move back to his home because his parents had passed away and their farm was about to be sold. After the captain’s send off, people began to question as to who would replace him. 

“Can’t one of the others replace him?” Richard had asked his advisor at the time, Gerald.

“I’m afraid not, Your Majesty,” Gerald replied. “None of them are experienced enough to take command. We need someone qualified to lead them to protect you and the kingdom.”

“Well, what should we do?” Richard asked. 

“I’ve an idea, My Liege,” Gerald answered. “We call upon our allies and neighboring kingdoms to send their most qualified knights here, where we shall host a contest. Whoever proves to be the most worthy shall become the new captain of the guard.”

Richard actually liked that idea and within a week, messengers had been sent to neighboring kingdoms. A month later, Richard, seated upon his throne, watched and listened as the men arrived and their names and titles were announced. Most of them looked very capable as they presented themselves, dressed in all manners of armour and leather and even animal skins. Finally, the last name was called. 

“And now I present Lord Oliver de Vannes, soldier and knight from the kingdom of His and Her Majesty King George the IV and Queen Penelope.”

The doors at the end of the throne room opened and Lord Oliver entered the room as people cheered. He walked up the red carpet that had been rolled out, dressed in polished chainmail over all-black clothing beneath. A black cloak fastened with silver at his throat hung from his shoulders and his sword was sheathed at his hip, his shield on his back. He stopped and knelt before Richard on one knee.

“It is an honour to be here, Your Majesty,” he said. 

“The honour is mine, Lord Oliver,” Richard replied. “Arise and let me look at you.”

Oliver obeyed and stood up, standing before the king. His dark curls and stubble framed his handsome face roguishly, his eyes a blue-green colour that Richard had never seen before. He was so handsome, the most handsome man the king had ever seen. Richard held a hand out like he’d done for the others and Oliver came forward, grasping the king’s hand gently and placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. A tingling sensation shot down the king’s arm, starting where Oliver’s lips had been and traveling straight to his heart. Oliver stepped back and bowed once again.

Richard got to study him only for a minute before a servant directed him to stand in line among the others. Richard cleared his throat and stood up from his throne.

“We have called you brave men here today because a month ago, the loyal captain of my guard retired,” he announced. “And we are looking for a new man to lead my guards. For the next few weeks you will be participating in a contest and whoever wins shall be given the choice to become my new captain. The first event begins tomorrow morning. I wish you all the best of luck.”

All the knights bowed and left the throne room one by one. Lord Oliver was the last one to leave. Richard watched him go, his heartbeat fluttering like a moth’s wings. 

‘I hope he wins,’ the king thought.

Richard finished the story, leaving out the details about Oliver making his heart race or how handsome he’d looked that day. Jack stared at him from across the fire.

“Thank you for the tale, Your Majesty,” he said.

“You’re welcome, Jack,” Richard replied. 

The soldier nodded and stood up to stretch. “You should get some rest, My Liege. We’ll resume traveling in the morning.”

Richard nodded and left the fire, heading inside of his tent. He laid down on his bedroll and stared skyward, placing his arms beneath his head. He’d been taken with Oliver from the moment they’d met. Though the lord hadn’t shared the king’s feelings at first, things eventually blossomed between them. Richard smiled to himself and pulled his necklace out from beneath his shirt, kissing the charm gently.

“Goodnight, my stallion,” he murmured in the darkness of his tent. “I love you.”


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Richard and the soldiers woke with the sunrise. The king emerged from his tent with a sigh as he stretched his arms over his head, his joints cracking loudly. Sleeping on the ground was very different from sleeping in his bed back at the palace. Richard ran his fingers through his tangled hair and watched the others stir to life. Jack came out of one of the tents, not looking nearly as tired as the other soldiers. He was probably used to waking up early, having been raised on a farm.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Jack greeted when he saw Richard. 

“Good morning, Jack,” Richard replied. “How much further do we have to go until we reach the encampment?”

“Depends on how much terrain we cover today,” Jack explained. “But we’re making good time. If we keep up this pace and don’t run into any trouble, we could reach the camp by the day after tomorrow.”

Richard hoped that was true. Jack nodded to him and joined the other men in packing up the campsite. Richard helped them and joined them for a quick breakfast of some of their rations. Richard went over to where Maximus was waiting and stroked the horse’s neck. The animal knickered softly and nuzzled the king’s face. Richard chuckled before reaching into one of the saddlebags and removing a polished silver hairbrush. He sat down beside the horse and began to brush his hair out slowly to remove the tangles.

He thought about Oliver as he did so. His lover loved his hair. Sometimes, when he spent the night in the king’s chambers, he would lay in bed and watch Richard as he brushed his hair in the morning. Most times Richard would sit in bed while he did it, and Oliver would curl up to him, pressing himself against the king’s back to remain close. Other times Richard would sit at his vanity and brush his hair in the mirror, which offered the perfect view of the bed behind him, where he could see Oliver watching him. 

One morning, when Richard had been sitting in bed brushing his hair, he was startled slightly by Oliver caressing his back through his shirt. The king turned around and smiled when he looked at his lover, his dark curls mussed from sleep and other activities, his eyes soft and gentle. He offered Richard a sleepy grin. 

“Good morning, my love,” Richard greeted, leaning in to kiss his lover on the lips.

“Morning,” Oliver replied groggily. 

Richard stroked his cheek and went back to brushing his hair, feeling Oliver’s eyes on him. At one point, he felt the lord move closer, twining a strand of Richard’s silky copper hair around his finger.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” Oliver asked.

Richard smiled, feeling his face heat up as he blushed a light pink. He turned and stroked Oliver’s cheek gently.

“You have told me that many times,” he told Oliver. “But I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of hearing you say it.”

“You’re beautiful, Richard,” Oliver said, still playing with the king’s hair. 

The king smiled at the memory as he finished brushing and put the brush back into the saddlebag, then swinging himself up onto Maximus’ back. Jack and the others mounted their horses and they headed off again in the same V-formation. Richard was silent for a few minutes, concentrating on what he planned to do when they reached the camp. Depending on what Oliver’s condition was, would Richard be able to bring him back to the kingdom? And even if he was, what were the odds that the doctor back at the kingdom could help him more than the camp doctor? Richard reached beneath his shirt and gripped his rosebud necklace, breathing deeply to calm himself. 

‘Oliver will be fine,’ he thought to himself. ‘He’s strong and he will get through this.’

Richard was so deep in thought that he didn’t notice Jack riding beside him until the man reached over and touched his shoulder.

“Your Highness?” Jack asked. “Are you alright? You seem pensive.”

Richard blinked. “Yes, of course. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

Jack nodded. “I imagine so. You’re worried about Lord Oliver, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Richard admitted a little too quickly. 

“Don’t worry, My Liege,” Jack said. “You have my word that we will reach him in time.”

“Thank you, Jack,” Richard replied. 

The soldier nodded respectfully. They rode on in silence for a while longer. The sky was clear and cloudless again, the sun high in the sky. Richard wasn’t familiar with where they were going, but he trusted Jack to lead them. At one point however, they reached a path of powdered dirt, that snaked straight through a dark thicket of trees and vegetation. As their party approached it, Jack suddenly pulled his horse to a stop and raised a hand for the others to stop as well.

“What’s wrong?” Richard asked. 

“This area is known as a hiding place for outlaws and bandits, as well other criminals,” Jack explained. “We need to be careful.”

Richard nodded. Jack waited a minute more before moving forward, gesturing for the others to follow. They had to ride on the path single file because of how narrow it was. Richard looked around at the trees, feeling like they were being watched. A twig snapped suddenly, far away but close enough to be heard.

“What was that?” Richard asked nervously.

“I don’t know,” Jack replied. 

The words had barely left his lips before a yowl pierced the air. A lithe figure suddenly burst from the forest and knocked Jack off his horse. He fell to the ground with thud and his horse reared up, neighing in fear. The figure turned out to be a man, dressed in greasy furs and holding a curved dagger. He hovered over Jack and brought the blade down, but Jack kicked the assailant’s legs out from under him, knocking him off balance. 

“Run, Your Majesty!” Jack shouted as he stood up and drew his sword. “We’ll cover you! Run!”

Richard wanted to protest but more bandits started appearing. An arrow flew past Richard’s face, whistling as it did and sank into a tree. Richard snapped Maximus’ reins and the horse whinnied before taking off running. 

“After the king!” one of the bandits shouted. “He’ll fetch a high price!”

Richard didn’t look back, spurring Maximus on. He could hear the fighting behind him, swords clashing, Jack and his men yelling. Maximus ran faster, but suddenly something erupted up from the ground in front of them, a net of some sort, covered in spikes. Maximus reared up just as another one sprung up behind them, trapping them. Richard looked around hurriedly, hearing the bandits closing in. The only way out was to run through the forest itself. It looked so dark and ominous, but Richard didn’t see any other way.

“Go, Maximus,” he urged, snapping the reins. “Through the trees. We’ll lose them in there.”

The horse obeyed and they rushed into the forest. Branches whipped at Richard’s face and his clothes, leaves scratching his skin like claws. It was so dark and thick that he couldn’t see where they were going, so he kept urging Maximus forward. Just as light started to appear at the end of the path, something large flew at Richard from the side and knocked him off of Maximus. The king fell to the rough ground with yell, pain splintering through his body. Maximus turned back and whinnied urgently. He started to run back to Richard, but the king shook his head.

“Go, Maximus, go,” Richard shouted, unsure if the animal could even understand him. “Find the others!”

The horse lingered before running off and vanishing from view. Richard tried to stand and leaned against a nearby tree, its bark so dark it was nearly black. The canopy was thick enough that no sunlight shone through, leaving the king in shadow. His crown was nearby on the ground, but when Richard reached for it, his hissed in pain. A cut sliced across the palm of his left hand, blood dripping down his fingers. His right arm was bruised and swollen, and he couldn’t move it very well.

“Well, well, well,” an oily voice cooed from the shadows. “What do we have here?”

A tall man appeared before Richard, dressed in ragged clothes and a leather jerkin, twirling a cutlass made from bone honed to a deadly sharpness. Richard’s eyes widened and he swallowed.

“King Richard, all alone outside the kingdom,” the bandit chuckled. “It’s my lucky day. I could get rich selling you to someone.”

“Please, I’ll give you any amount of money you desire,” Richard begged. “Please just let me and my men go.”

The bandit tapped his chin in mock thought. “A nice idea. But you wouldn’t happen to have that kind of coin on you now, would you?”

“N-no,” Richard admitted. “But if you’ll just let me go, I will see to it that you receive-”

The man punched Richard right in the stomach. The king wheezed and crumpled to the ground. He heard the bandit cackle maliciously. 

“Maybe I’ll keep you for myself,” the bandit mused. “You’re a pretty one. You’d look so good wearing a-”

“Get away from him!” Jack shouted.

Richard looked up just in time to see the soldier burst into the forest on Maximus, his sword raised high. He leapt off the horse and tackled the bandit to the ground. They grappled before Jack brought his blade down and stabbed the man in the stomach, twisting the weapon before pulling it out. The bandit fell to the ground like a tree, blood spreading across the grass. Jack stood over the corpse, panting, his sword wet with blood. He flicked it away and sheathed his sword before coming over to Richard.

“Are you hurt, Your Highness?” Jack asked.

Before Richard could answer, Jack knelt in front of him. His armour was gone and his clothes were torn and stained. A cut oozed on his shoulder and another dripped blood down the side of his face.

“You’re hurt,” Richard said. 

“Not badly,” Jack replied dismissively. “Can you move your arm?”

“Not really,” Richard answered. 

Jack held his arm gently, prodding and applying gentle pressure here and there. Richard hissed as he did so.

“You’ve just sprained it,” Jack said. “It’s not broken. We still have to bind it though.”

He removed his shirt and started tearing it into strips. His body was tanned and muscled, scars crisscrossing every which way across his chest and stomach. He fashioned a sling and helped bind Richard’s arm, then used another strip to staunch the bleeding from the cut on his hand.

“Thank you,” Richard said as Jack helped him to his feet. “You saved my life.” 

“Don’t thank just me,” Jack replied. “Maximus found me on the path and when you weren’t with him, I knew something was wrong.”

Maximus neighed. Richard smiled and stroked the animal’s muzzle. “Thank you, my friend.”

“We should get out of here,” Jack said. “The other men are waiting for us.”

“They survived?” Richard asked. “All of them?”

Jack nodded. Richard sighed in relief and they started walking. As they did, he caught a glimpse of a dark shape on Jack’s back. It was a tattoo, faded in places because of the scars. It was a shield emblazoned with an eagle and the letters ‘J.H. and P. L.’ 

“What’s that tattoo for?” Richard asked. “The letters on it?”

“The J and H are my initials,” Jack explained. “The others are my love’s initials. I got the tattoo after I lost them in the war.”

His voice held such sadness and heartache. Richard wanted to press but decided not to. For now, anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

Richard was relieved to see the other soldiers of their group were indeed alive and only minorly injured like Jack had said. Even all of the horses had survived. They continued on quickly, eager to be far away from the forest in case any of the other bandits were still lingering. No one stopped until the forest was well behind them and the sun began to set. Their party reached a field of wildflowers and a small but pristine lake. Richard could see how exhausted the other men were, including Jack, though he was trying to hide it. 

“We should camp here for tonight,” Richard said. “It appears to be safe enough. We can resume again in the morning.”

“Good idea, Your Majesty,” Jack agreed. 

He and some of the men began setting up the camp while the others guided their horses over to the lake. Maximus stayed near Richard even after he dismounted, nuzzling the king’s face. Richard laughed and stroked the animal’s muzzle.

“You’re a good steed, Maximus,” he said. “Thank you for saving my life.”

The horse knickered softly and almost seemed to bow before trotting off toward the lake. Richard sat down on the ground, rubbing his bound arm. It still ached and was discoloured and swollen slightly. The cut on his other hand had stopped bleeding so he carefully peeled away the piece of Jack’s shirt to look at it. Dried blood caked the edges of the wound, which was only several inches long. Richard wondered if it would scar. He didn’t have many except for a few from tumbles and falls he’d taken as a child. 

“Are you alright, Your Highness?” Jack asked, suddenly appearing before the king.

His hair was matted to his forehead with blood from the cut on the side of his face. The wound on his shoulder had stopped bleeding as well. The scars on his body were like the lines on a map, snaking and crisscrossing every which way. 

“I’m fine, Jack,” Richard replied. “Just a little...shaken up, I guess. I’ve never really been in combat like that before.”

“That’s understandable,” Jack said. “I’m sorry I led us to that place. I should’ve found another way around.”

“You did nothing wrong, Jack,” Richard reassured him. “You saved my life and the lives of the others. You’re a hero.”

Jack managed a bashful smile and rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of colour appearing in his cheeks. But a slight sadness had crept into his eyes as well, a shadow of doubt appearing on his face. 

“I’m no hero, My Liege,” he said, his voice so quiet Richard almost didn’t hear him. “I’m just a man. A soldier.”

Richard arched an eyebrow. Jack looked off into the distance in silence for a few moments before he faced the king again.

“Your tent has been set up, Your Majesty,” he said. “You should get some rest. The other men and I will start a fire and I will see if I can find some fish in that lake.”

“Thank you,” Richard replied. 

Jack bowed and walked off. Richard stood up and entered his tent, sitting down on the bedroll already laid out. He brushed some of his hair back, tucking some loose strands behind his ears and removing his crown. Even though it was made of a fairly light weight metal, sometimes he felt the phantom heaviness of it. Richard laid down on his back, keeping his bound arm against his chest. He reached for his necklace and was relieved to find it was still there despite the fight against the bandits. He kissed the charm as he did every night, whispering Oliver’s name like a prayer. The king felt tired and weary from the travel and the fight, so he didn’t fight the falling of his eyelids as he fell asleep and dreamed of Oliver again, of the first contest event at the kingdom.

The first day of the tournament dawned bright and clear. Richard arrived at the training grounds behind the kingdom dressed richly in cream-and-gold robes, his silk cap trailing behind him, his silken tresses falling to his shoulder beneath his crown. He smiled as the crowd cheered when he stood up in his private viewing area, two guards posted on either side. The knights from the other kingdoms stood in a line, side by side. Lord Oliver was the last in the line.

“Today’s event is a test of skill and patience,” Richard announced. “In order to be the captain of my guard your heart must be pure, your aim swift and sure. The first five of you who successfully complete this series of archery drill will stay to compete another day. Those who don’t can return to their kingdoms or stay here if they wish to see how the rest of the tourney is finished and who is crowned the winner. Your bows and quivers are on the table before me. You may come and collect them.”

The knights all came forward and collected their equipment. Oliver slung the quiver over his shoulder and picked up the blackwood bow, plucking at the string. He wore smoke-grey chainmail over a forest-green shirt and black leggings, his dark curls shining in the sunlight. Richard studied him and smiled. Oliver must have sensed his staring and looked up, his enchanting eyes like gems in the sun.

“I wish you luck, Lord Oliver,” Richard told him. 

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Lord Oliver replied, bowing. 

He joined the others on the training grounds again. Several of the kingdom’s guards had set up the archery course. Targets painted on wood stood on the ground, while some hung from some nearby trees. A servant rang a bell that was nearby, signaling the beginning of the event. Richard watched as the knights began firing their arrows, knowing that he should be watching all of them, but his eyes kept focusing on Oliver. He deftly took an arrow from his quiver and knocked it the bow, pulling the string taut, his handsome face tight with concentration as his eyes narrowed, focusing on the target before letting the arrow go.

He scored several dead-center shots, concentrating each time before letting go. Richard could see that he took a deep breath each time and exhaled as he fired each arrow. He could see how taut the muscles of the lord’s arms were even beneath his clothes. The king wondered what his arms looked like bare. They would most definitely be muscular and possibly scarred. Richard unconsciously licked his lips as he watched, only broken from his trance when the bell was rung again, signaling the end of the event. Oliver was thankfully one of the five men who would be moving on.

“Congratulations to those of you continuing on in the tournament,” Richard announced. “The next event will be two days from now. You receive further instructions once the day comes. Until then, enjoy your victory!”

The crowd cheered and the knights all bowed, then walked up to put their bows and quivers back on the table before Richard. One knight in particular seemed to be a favourite of the crowd. His name was Alistair and he was from a kingdom several miles away. He was handsome in a more rugged way than Oliver, with a thick brow and a strong jaw. 

“This event was easy,” he said as he put his things back. “I look forward to being the captain of your guard, King Richard.”

He offered the king a smile that showed his white teeth but didn’t extend to his beady eyes. Richard managed a slight grin back. Something about him didn’t seem right and rubbed Richard the wrong way. He was grateful when the knight left and was soon followed by the others, except Oliver.

“I wanted to thank you for wishing me luck, My Liege,” Oliver explained. “Truth be told I used to be rubbish at archery and I was afraid I wouldn’t make it past this first event.”

“I had confidence in you, Lord Oliver,” Richard told him with a smile. “I did from the minute you arrived here.”

Oliver looked taken aback. “Thank you, Your Majesty. But won’t the other men be jealous if they find out you favor me?”

“I will not tell if you won’t,” Richard replied with a smile and a mischievous wink.

Oliver laughed, the sound making Richard’s heart flutter like songbird’s. 

“May I kiss your hand again, Your Highness?” Oliver asked, sounding almost hopeful. “I want to thank you properly for the luck you wished me.”

“Of course,” Richard answered, hoping he didn’t sound or seem too eager.

He held out his right hand, an apple-red polish flashing on his nails, matching his painted lips. Oliver took it carefully into his own rough, calloused hands and placed a soft, gentle kiss upon the back of the king’s hand. Richard thought he felt Oliver’s lips linger a second longer before the lord released his hand and backed away, bowing respectfully. 

“I should join the other men,” he said. “Goodbye, Your Highness.”

He left quickly and Richard watched him go, wishing he could follow. He’d felt the same spark he’d felt when Oliver had first kissed his hand, only now it seemed that Oliver had felt it too.


	6. Chapter 6

The journey to Oliver’s camp was long and hard. Even though they didn’t encounter any more danger on the road, Richard and the other men dealt with harsh weather and the slow healing of the injuries they’d suffered during the outlaw ambush two days ago. The cut on Richard’s hand healed with only a slight scar, but his sprained arm still troubled him, making it awkward to hold onto the reins of his horse or sleep at night when they made camp. Jack reassured the king each day that were getting closer to the camp, but Richard’s heart for the first time began to wane in hope. Nothing looked familiar any more now that they were away from the kingdom and he felt unprepared and exposed, like an open wound.

Richard was afraid that their journey was in vain, that when they finally reached their destination he would be too late. If Oliver was dead by the time they reached him, Richard wasn’t sure how he could go on. He’d never lost a loved one before. He’d never even been in love before meeting Oliver. How did someone recover from that? Richard glanced at Jack, riding ahead of their party. The king thought about the tattoo he’d seen on the soldier's back, the initials of his lost love inked into his skin. Jack seemed to have recovered from losing his love, but a sadness and a kind of guilt hung over him.

Richard flicked some of his hair off his face. Rain had begun to fall, the clouds grey and thick in the sky. The king drew the hood of his cloak up over his head and hunched over in the saddle, trying to shield himself from the rain and the cold wind beginning to blow. Maximus knickered and shook his mane side to side. Richard stroked the animal’s neck. 

“Easy, boy,” he said. “It’s just a little rain.”

The king shivered as the wind blew but their party continued on, the dirt path turning to mud beneath the horses’ hooves. Richard stared broodingly at the mud, unable to stop the thoughts of losing Oliver without even saying goodbye. He was so deep in thought that he nearly fell off of Maximus when Jack suddenly spoke to him.

“Your Majesty?” he asked.

Richard blinked and looked up. “Yes, Jack?”

“See there?” Jack pointed up ahead.

Richard squinted in the misty rain and spotted a black trail of smoke rising into the sky, another mile down the road from where they were.

“What is that?” he asked Jack.

“The camp,” Jack answered. “We’re almost there.”

Richard’s heart gave a leap and his body surged with new energy. “What are we waiting for?”

He snapped Maximus’ reins and the horse reared up before running up the road. Jack and the other soldiers followed him. Richard slowed slightly to let them catch up but still urged his horse onward at a brisk pace. Jack rode up alongside him while the other men followed behind. Finally, they reached the camp’s front gate. Soldiers patrolled nearby, dressed in armour and armed to the teeth with swords, daggers, bows and quivers full of arrows. When Richard’s party approached, the men on the wall spotted them.

“Halt!” one of them shouted down at them. “Stay where you are!”

Richard pulled Maximus to a stop and Jack and their party followed suit. The king heard the sound of bow strings being pulled back and realized that the men on the battlements were aiming at them. A man in a different uniform than the rest appeared behind the closed gate.

“State your business,” he commanded gruffly. 

“Let me handle this, Your Majesty,” Jack whispered off handedly to Richard.

The king nodded. Jack sat up straighter on his horse and spoke, his voice calm and authoritative.

“My name is Jack Hilden,” he said. “I am part of Lord Oliver de Vannes’ unit, serving as his second in command. I came with King Richard the Second, who wanted to come and help his captain and friend.”

Richard noticed the other soldiers sharing bewildered looks with each other. Their commander eyed Richard from behind the gate. The king lowered the hood of his cloak and shook out his hair, then put on his crown. Instantly, the soldiers bowed and lowered their weapons.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” the commander said. “We did not know you were coming. We’ll open the gate right away.”

He nodded at some men who pushed the gate open to let Richard’s party inside. As he rode by, Richard noticed some soldiers bowing while he could hear others whispering to each other.

“Is the king really here?” 

“Why would he journey all the way out here?”

“Has he ever been outside the kingdom before?”

Richard and his party entered the camp and dismounted their horses at the stables. Richard wiped at his face as the rain continued to drizzle as the man from the gate rushed over.

“My Liege, my name is Simon Ceres,” he said. “Forgive me for what happened at the gate. All of us have been on edge since Lord Oliver was injured.”

“I understand,” Richard replied. “You are forgiven. Where is Lord Oliver? I need to see him.”

“He’s in the medic’s tent,” Simon answered. “But with all due respect, Your Highness, I don’t think-”

“Oliver is the king’s captain of the guard,” Jack interrupted. “He deserves to know what’s going on.”

Simon nodded. “Follow me, Your Majesty.”

He led Richard from the stables and through the camp. Other tents and another stable had been built inside, a large bonfire, protected by a canvas tarp, stood in the center of the camp. Richard could see evidence of recent battles-holes in the battlements, blood stains on the grass, arrows sticking up out of the ground and the walls of the camp. Simon approached a white tent and pushed the flap aside to let Richard in first. His nose wrinkled at the acrid smell of blood and sweat.

Cots were lined up on one side of the tent, shielded by a length of white sheets tied together. Only some of the cots were occupied, but none of the men were Oliver. A long table nearby was covered in bloodstains, as well jars and other containers. A man dressed in white robes and a black apron over his front approached them, bowing as he saw Richard.

“Your Majesty, it's an honour to meet you,” he said. “I am Hector Borea, the camp’s doctor. What can I do for you?”

“I am here to see Lord Oliver,” Richard told him. “I know he was injured in an attack several days ago. I want to see how he’s doing.”

Hector’s eyes flashed with uneasiness. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Your Highness. Lord Oliver is...not ready to be seen, yet.”

“Please, let me see him,” Richard almost pleaded. “He’s my captain and a loyal friend. I need to see him.”

Hector sighed and led the king over to a corner of the tent that was shielded by another white sheet. The doctor pushed the sheet aside. Richard had prepared himself for what sort of his state his lover might be in when they reached the camp, but seeing him was a shock all the same. Oliver was laying on a cot, blankets covering his waist. His whole torso was covered with bandages, wrapped around his chest and his back like mummy wrappings. His dark curls were limp and matted. His handsome face looked ashen but flushed at the same time, his brow furrowed in a grimace. He wasn’t moving and if it hadn’t been for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, Richard would have thought he was already dead.

“What happened to him?” he asked softly, staring at his lover.

“It was an ambush,” Jack explained, coming up to stand beside Richard, staring at Oliver with him. “Those savages attacked us and just when we’d thought we’d beaten them, one of them shot Oliver twice. One arrow hit him in the back and the other in his chest, just missing his heart.”

“Even after I removed the arrows and cleaned the wounds, Lord Oliver still didn’t regain consciousness,” Hector added. “He’s been like this for days. I fear he has been poisoned. I’ve tried every remedy I could think of, but none have worked. These past days we’ve just been...waiting for him to die.”

Richard clenched his fists. “Leave us,” he said quietly.

“What?” Hector asked.

“I said, leave us!” Richard snapped.

Hector’s eyes widened but he, Simon, and Jack all left the tent without another word. Richard waited until they were gone before he finally rushed to Oliver’s bedside and took his hand. Upon closer inspection he could see red, inflamed patches on his lover’s neck and arms. Richard ran a hand down his lover’s arm and felt how warm his skin was, how rigid and tense the muscles were beneath the skin. The king stroked his lover’s face and felt how warm it was, sweat matting his hair further. Oliver’s breathing was shallow and laboured, his lips dry and cracked.

“Oliver,” Richard whispered. “I’m here, my love. I’m right here. I’ve come to help you.”

Oliver gave no sign or indication that he was aware of Richard’s presence. The king stifled a sob and stroked his lover’s curls. If the doctor here had given up on Oliver and was just waiting for him to die, then what was the point of Oliver being there? Richard had an idea. He kissed his lover’s forehead and rested it against his own.

“Don’t worry, my love,” the king whispered. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

He wiped at a few tears that he dripped down his cheek and took a deep breath, slipping on his composure before he left the tent and found Hector and the others waiting outside.

“How soon can Oliver be moved?” Richard asked.

“Moved?” Hector asked. “What do you mean, Your Highness?”

“Since you’ve exhausted all your efforts and haven’t found a way to help him and are just waiting for him to die, I’ve decided to take him back to the kingdom,” Richard announced. “I’ll send word for every doctor and healer if I have to. One of them must have a cure for whatever poison Oliver has.”

“My Liege, I do not think it’s wise to move Lord Oliver,” Simon said. “He’s frail and feverish. He would only slow you down on your trip back to the kingdom. Perhaps it is better if you just-”

“Silence!” Richard snapped. “Do not even finish that thought! We may be away from the kingdom but I am still your king and you will listen to me. The men who came with me will rest here for a few days and then we will resume travel and bring Oliver with us. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Simon and Hector said in unison.

Richard nodded and noticed Jack staring at him in wonder and shock. 

“I’m amazed at how far your devotion goes for Lord Oliver,” he told Richard. “He must have done something extremely noble to earn that from you, Your Highness.”

“He did,” Richard agreed, before walking back into the tent.


End file.
